


The Whip & Gag

by TheEvangelion



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Banter, Daddy Anya, Daddy Kink, Dom Anya, Dom Lexa, Dom/sub, F/F, First Time, Heavy BDSM, Strap-Ons, Sub Clarke, Threesome - F/F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 13:36:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14619690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEvangelion/pseuds/TheEvangelion
Summary: Clarke visits a local underground BDSM bar for the first time and gets more than she bargained for when she stumbles right into the eager hands of Lexa and Anya. (The long awaited, much requested, Clexanya threeway.)For Kendrene and Bae, because I said I'd never do it and here I am eating humble fucking pie.





	1. Chapter 1

The bar was dark and almost smoky beneath the forgiving orange light. There were small groups huddled together in the nooks and corners, acquaintances through the artform no doubt. It made them unapproachable in Clarke’s mind nonetheless, the way they exercised their comfort with these games so…effortlessly.

There were submissives dotted everywhere, doe eyed ingenues staring up at some smouldering creature who was there trying to run away from something just like everyone else. The girl at the bar with a cigarette and leash in the same hand, hissing and spitting violent pretty words at a boy on his knees with his hands raised like paws? Clarke imagined she was getting over her fear of dogs through more unusual methods.  She laughed quietly at the thought. 

The man with a ponytail in the far corner whipping soft leather strips in circles over a girl’s whimpering ass? Definitely picturing his seventh grade teacher who said he’d never be respectable with a haircut like that. Then again, no man over thirty should have a long ponytail, Clarke decided with a shudder.

Then Clarke saw them, the two women she had watched walk in this place every Friday night from across the street when she finished work.

“Look,” The tall slender one made eye contact and then nudged her friend, “You owe me ten dollars.”

“Damn it!” The friend bristled and dug in her jean pockets, finally retrieving her wallet.

Clarke grew courageous and took a few steps over, “What were you guys betting on?” She tried to seem cool and collected.

“Well," the tall slender one smiled, "my friend Lexa and I saw you in the cloakroom looking nervous. We were betting on whether you’d have the balls to walk in here or not. You’re definitely a new face.” A sharp playful brow was raised in her direction.

Clarke stopped herself from pushing her locked lips into a frown. She had a whole list of nonchalant things she planned on saying, confident little nothings to at least give the impression she knew what she was doing in a place like this. But the jig was up, she had already been caught red handed.

“I’m not nervous,” Clarke lied and looked at Lexa. “I’m not.”

Lexa smiled pleasantly, tapping the bar softly for the bartender to bring over another whiskey, neat. “This one is one me, you could definitely use a drink.” She turned back with a tiny smirk.

“I don’t take drinks off of strangers.”

Lexa laughed and seemed please with herself. “Sweetheart if you knew how many ten buck bets I’ve won the last two months over you? You would take the drink and then some. Isn’t that right Anya?” She grinned at her souring friend.

“Nobody likes a show off, puppy,” Anya chastised.

Lexa ignored her friend and took the poured drink, pushing it towards Clarke slowly. “We noticed you staring a while ago whenever we came in here, and we’ve been betting ever since on whether you’d work up the courage to follow your wandering eyes inside.”

“I always thought you would,” Anya explained and took a sip of her drink, sighing in satisfaction. “And as for Lexa? Well…she seemed to think you were a scared little bird. I’ll be honest I like rooting for the underdog, even when they do cost me a pretty penny they always tend to crop a winner in the end. Money well spent if you ask me. I for one am very happy to see oh so beautiful you in this old dump. Brightens the place up if you ask me."

"Which no one did," Lexa reminded.

"Jealousy doesn't suit you," Anya taunted her back wryly.

Clarke exhaled nervously and forced a tiny laugh at their exchange. The pair of them were beautiful, beautiful in that self assured way that didn’t need for her to tell them so in the slightest because they already knew. Lexa was the one who caught her eye at first, always neatly dressed in slim fitting slacks and an expensive suit jacket while they stood in the line outside—not at all the usual dress for the clientele who frequented this bar. Then it Anya she couldn't take her eyes off of. Always smouldering and dressed to the nines in all black. Every single week it was all black. Anya wore slim black jeans, expensive, tall, black leather Chelsea boots, a black leather jacket with silver buckles hanging at the waist, and always that slouchy black t-shirt. Anya wore it all as if she were dressed in a couture gown. It was the confidence that did that, the oozing femininity that dripped from her slender figure until all Clarke could imagine was the other black items worn underneath it all.

She had made a frequent game of imagining them over the last few weeks.

“You both caught my attention, I’ll give you that.” Clarke nudged her chin up confidently.

Lexa smirked at her friend, “Do you want to tell her or should I?”

“Oh no, I won the bet tonight. I want dibs.”

“Well alright,” Lexa encouraged her and rolled her eyes.

“Every Tuesday and Thursday you visit my place on third and normally Lexa and I are out front drinking coffee on our break… and you have never recognised us once. Not a single time!" Anya couldn't help but laugh until her shoulders shook. "You just walk right on past happy in your safe little world, pretty bird."

“Wait, your place on third?” Clarke’s brows did the thing.

Anya nodded, “That little overpriced artisanal coffee store with the line that goes half a block back? Oh yeah, she’s mine alright. You’re a great tipper by the way, the girls out front all tell me good things.”

“Oh god,” Clarke swore at herself and pinched the bridge of her nose. “That’s your coffee shop?”

“A joint venture," Lexa added. "But she takes care of day to day operations, sure. Which makes me wonder by the way, what is it about the sight of us on Friday night outside of this place that catches your attention? I can’t help but wonder whether it’s us… or whether it’s the idea of us inside this room.” Lexa made a square in the air with her fingertips.

“Well, everyone in here looks… a certain way," Clarke said diplomatically, looking around. "Then there’s you two.” She shrugged and sat herself down on the adjacent bar stool.

“And then there’s us. Did you hear that? What a great line," Anya nudged her friend in pleased surprise.

“What do the other folk look like to you?” Lexa became interested and leaned in to the conversation.

“Like…they’re running away from something?” Clarke looked around at all the latex and masks, “Like this is just a means to an end for them, I guess? I mean who am I to judge? No one. But you asked and so I’m telling you.” Clarke shrugged and took a sip of the free drink, breathing in a deep breath. “They’re running away…and you’re both running head on into the fire.”

“Oh I really like this one. Can we keep this one?” Anya looked over at Lexa with a pout.

“Are you going to feed and exercise her everyday?” Lexa shot back with a raised brow.

“Define exercise.”

“You’re disgusting and I love you,” Lexa said expressionless and slipped her hand along the inside of her thigh.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Clarke snapped to attention at the small symptom of affection between them. “I had no idea you were a—”

“Relax, kitten.” Anya looked up with a smirk and pushed her thighs further apart. Lexa's fingers came to a rest on top of her kneecap, her hand sat firmly on the bend of that joint as if it were a thing that belonged to her. “Lexa and me are just friends. Just, very, very close friends, right?” She slipped her gaze towards her friend and earned a darkened smirk from Lexa's liplocked mouth.

“Right,” Lexa agreed and glanced back, “What’s your name by the way?”

“Emily,” Clarke lied.

Anya rolled her eyes. “Your _real_ name?”

“Clarke."

“Better. See, was that so hard?” Anya smiled and leaned forward with a sultry whisper, “You don’t have to be afraid of me princess… but I like that you are anyway.”

It sent a shiver down Clarke’s spine, the ease and reverence of those words making her tingle in places she didn’t know words could make her tingle. Anya was sharp featured and all the more beautiful because of it, with cat like almond eyes and tanned skin that the low light made all the more golden and perfect.

Lexa pulled the collar of her leather jacket until Anya was made to thud against the back of the bar stool.

“Be nice,” Lexa warned her friend and smoothed her jacket down again, “Please? For me?” She offered her the kind of twinkling smile that felt intimate and between the two of them.

“It’s a good job you put a please on the end of that before I had to put a bruise on the end of you.” Anya bristled to herself and slumped against the seat. Utterly tamed and made quiet by that one twinkling smile.

“Yeah yeah, bruised pride, I know,” Lexa crooned mockingly and then raised her hand for another round. “Same for you…Clarke?” She tried her name on for size with a pleased grin.

“Yeah,” Clarke grew brave and decided the one drink she was originally intending on staying for would now be stretched to a second. “I’ll take another one please.”

“Mmm,” Anya closed her eyes and smoked. “I hope above all things you’ll be saying the same thing tonight when my hand—”

“So help me god, Anya.” Lexa leaned and growled with a pointed brow.

“Alright, alright!” Anya folded her arms and rolled her eyes. “I’ll play nice.”

…

The bar closed, the people left in twos and threes and fours and fives, the tables were cleaned, the chairs placed upside down, the lights dimmed until the only light that remained were where they continued to sit—like moths crowding the last naked flame.

“I am glad you stumbled in here tonight,” Lexa admitted with a smile as the laughter dwindled and fell into pause once again.

“Me too,” Clarke admitted wryly.

They had spoken about boring ordinary things all night, with just a sprinkle and hint of games that fell beyond the line of what was decent and moral. It excited Clarke. It bloomed inside of her throat and unfurled like a lily and made each breath and word all the more floral because of it—all the more bursting with spring.

“I should go home, Bellamy will be wondering where I am. I only really planned on staying for one drink and seeing what it is exactly you freaks get up to in here,” Clarke joked with raised brows. 

She was reluctant to leave, but it was late and in all honesty she had no idea what it was she was doing in a place like this. She had fantasies, sure, but The Gag And Whip was infamous for all the reasons she couldn’t afford to be associated with.

She really, really, should be going.

“Bellamy? A boyfriend?” Anya asked inquisitively.

“He wishes,” Clarke sighed and folded her legs. “Just a friend.”

“Well then,” Lexa stood and fetched her coat from the back of the stool, “Why don’t you surprise yourself and come home with us? You didn’t come in here because you wanted to find out who we were. You came in here for yourself—to find out who you could inside this room.”

“What?” Clarke said dumbly.

“You came because it was exciting, because you’re either running away from something or running head on into it,” Lexa said it plainly as if it were the most obvious truth. “And by the way, I think I’m going to steal that line until the end of time now.”

“You’re welcome to it,” Clarke exhaled and long breath and paused, looking Lexa up and down lustfully.

Over the course of the evening she had switched favourites at least a half dozen times. Toyed with the idea of what it would be like to go home with them both, or maybe just one of them. Now here it was: her chance, the opportunity to do something so entirely out of her comfort zone in the most exciting way possible.

She willed herself to say no thank you.

“Such a pretty little bird,” Anya leaned in with furrowed brows and pushed a weft of soft blonde hair behind her ear. “So frightened and lovely.”

“You don’t frighten me,” Clarke said sternly.

Anya pushed forward and kissed her softly. It took her by surprise, the sweetness of it. The way her mouth tasted like brown sugar and hot liquor. Clarke’s throat burned with the aftertaste of whiskey, but Anya’s lips soothed as quickly as they scalded. Her warm hands slipped around Clarke’s waist and held her firm.

Clarke melted.

Anya dragged an open hot mouth along her cheek and ear, “How about now?”

“You want me to be frightened of you?” Clarke groaned and felt herself grow aroused and alight.

“No,” Anya pulled back and stared with absolute certainty, “I want you to be terrified in all the ways that keep making you cross your thighs like that.”

“And what exactly would the two of you do if I went to bed with you?” Clarke grew brave and slowly looked at Lexa.

She stood there brooding, hanging from the praecipe of her very bones even. Her eyes were an insurmountable kind of wrath. A burning blaze of want and desire. A perfect clarity of what she can and will do in order to dampen the flames.

“Have you ever been fucked in the ass?” Lexa asked calmly, as if she was talking about ordinary pleasantries.

“Y...yes. I mean, once?” Clarke licked her lips nervously.

“Well that’s what I would do, if you went to bed with us.” Lexa took a step forward confidently and placed her empty glass on the bar, her face absolutely without expression. “I would warm you up while she made you do all kinds of disgusting shameful things to get her off,” she pointed at Anya’s darkened smile, “and I would push a plug that was just a little bit too big inside of you from behind so slowly, so _achingly_ slowly.” The thought made her laugh lightly, “And just when you felt yourself close around the widest part? Just when that relief sunk into you? I’d pull it back out again. Then there’s the clamps too,” she shrugged and walked off.

“The clamps?” Clarke choked out the question and watched Lexa walk around the darkened bar, searching high and low for something.

“Do you want to tell her about the clamps, or should I?” Lexa offered her friend and rolled up her sleeves, pressing up on her tiptoes and pulling down a dusty bottle from the top shelf of the bar.

“I really like it when you let me tell them about the clamps—generosity is one of your greatest virtues,” Anya exhaled with soft eyes and the pair of them ignored Clarke completely.

“You’re tipsier than you’re letting on you know,” Lexa scolded.

“Pour me a double of the good stuff anyway, spoil me." Anya leaned back and popped her knuckles.

“Should you guys be doing that? Just pouring drinks when the bar is closed?” Clarke stumbled and tried to seem grounded in what was happening. Truth was she couldn’t care less about anything other than the burn of her aching cunt, but she could hardly let them know that. 

Well. Not yet at least.

“Jack!” Anya shouted over her shoulder at the bartender who swept in the far corner. “You don’t mind if we pour ourselves a drink right?”

The man looked up, confused. “Last time I check you still own the place right?” He asked, continuing to sweep and make himself invisible with the furniture.

“We do?! Well in that case Jack you better go home early!” Anya pretended to be shocked. She snapped back around towards Lexa with an excited grin, “Did you hear that? We own the bar?! Oh what a plot twist!”

“I’m sure I told you about making big purchases on the joint account without talking to me first, Honey.”

“Hey if it doesn’t work out we can try Amway and recoup our losses,” Anya elbowed playfully.

Clarke gulped and burned red with embarrassment. She knew what they were doing was purposeful, revealing little bits of detail and fact as the night drew in to make her feel all the more spun out and intrigued.

It was working.

“You guys own the bar?” Clarke looked at Anya first.

“Shh,” Anya smiled and took a tiny sip of her drink, “The clamps. We were talking about that first, try not to distract me.”

“Jesus,” Clarke closed her eyes and felt her stomach twist in arousal at how sudden the tide of conversation drifted.

“Have you ever worn nipple clamps before?” Anya asked plainly.

“No, but I think I would,” Clarke told her and in a moment of bravery pushed forward until she was within the intimacy of her personal space. Anya inhaled and blinked, offset and surprised by the act. It made Clarke smile as she took the drink from Anya’s hand and took a sip too, “Have you ever worn them? For Lexa, specifically?” She smirked and earned a deep set brow.

“Would you look at that... she asks questions, this one.” Anya raised a pleased brow and bit her bottom lip. “Do you mind?” She pulled a pack of cigarettes from her jacket pocket and raised a brow at Clarke.

“I do,” Lexa spoke up with a disapproving look.

“Nobody was asking you, Dad.” Anya didn’t bother turning around. She pushed a cigarette in her mouth and lit the end. “To answer your question I have indeed wore them. For Lexa, specifically. I’m versatile like that.”

“Versatile?”

“Sure I am, but not for you, little bird.” Anya smiled softly while a small smog of smoke left her nose. “Right now all I can think about is how pretty you would look between my knees with my hand around a chain between your tits keeping you good and whiney. I don’t think there’s anything versatile about that.”

Whatever game they were playing, Clarke knew Anya had won. Her confidence ebbed from her like steam from an open window, drifting away in seeping wisps that she couldn’t claw back. Instead Clarke stuttered and felt her stomach melt with arousal, her underwear completely ruined.

“What else would you do?” Clarke encouraged and crossed her legs.

“Well,” Anya thought about it for a moment with a flash of an expression and puffed the cigarette, “I’d have to put some bruises on that peach of an ass to give you a nice reminder to come and say hi when you get your flat white on Tuesday.”

“And if I wanted you to do that…? What would be the etiquette?”

“You would follow me upstairs to the apartment while Lexa finishes up down here. I would take your clothes off and put you on your knees and enjoy you in all the ways I’ve wanted to enjoy you since I spotted you staring from the other side of the street. I would touch you. And I would spank you. And I would fuck you. And I would humiliate you. And then I’m sure Lexa would come and join us and give you a reason to come back next week. And if you wanted to stop, then we would stop and I would make sure you got home safe," she said coolly.

Anya then slowly stood from her barstool and stubbed out the cigarette in an empty glass. She turned and walked away towards the back of the bar, glancing over her shoulder just once with those low dark come hither eyes.

Then she walked off entirely.

“Did she just?” Clarke whipped round and blinked at Lexa. “Is this…?”

“Oh yeah, she’s being serious.” Lexa nodded and continued tidying the bar indifferently, as if this was a completely usual occurrence. “The apartment is up the stairs, first right at the top. That’s if you want to go up and get your ass bruised up to heavens, it really isn't for everyone." She glanced up with a smile, "Then again, maybe it's for you? Won't know until you find out, right?"

 


	2. Part Deux

Clarke followed up the cold bare steps nervously. The door was open, that was a good sign. She walked through and closed the heavy door behind her until she was certain the loud click of the lock made her presence known to Anya. 

The apartment was full of warm colour, everything was bare wooden floors and gold accent. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, flush cheeked and nervous and definitely still wearing her usual dress down Friday attire, which consisted of ripped grey jeans and pastel blue jumper. Definitely not dressed for the occasion, she thought and tried to fix her flyaway blonde hair quickly.

“Living room, Clarke. Go and wait there on your knees.” A voice commanded from what she assumed was the bedroom. “Now,” it added.

Clarke found herself kicking off her boots and padding across the creaking floor towards a red chesterfield sofa. There was a pillow already set on the ground beside the coffee table, she imagined that was where Anya wanted to place her.

She blinked and swallowed, aware that the thought of doing something simply because Anya and Lexa wanted her to do it was incredibly arousing.

Clarke tentatively pulled her jumper off and folded it neatly on the coffee table. Her jeans were next, then her bra, and by the time her fingers hooked inside her ruined panties with gritted teeth at how nerve wracking this was, a voice made her jump.

“What did I tell you to do?” Anya asked commandingly at the door.

Clarke looked up and drew in a deep breath, blushing and loving this. Anya stood there in her perfect shabby-chic black ensemble with an evident addition. There was bulge beneath her jeans, a big one. Her dark hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, her brown hair fading into dark blonde bushy curls that were so long they dragged around the back of her shoulderblades.

Clarke wanted to pull that ponytail loose and let her fingers work through her long hair.

“Little bird,” Anya growled the words with sultry abandon and stepped closer towards her frozen figure, drawing Clarke back to reality. “What did I tell you to do?”

“You told me to go in the living room and kneel.”

“And so imagine my surprise when I come in here to find a very beautiful, very naked, very lovely you, just standing around?” she tutted and stopped in front of Clarke so close her hot breath grazed her naked skin.

“I thought you’d like it,” Clarke shrugged and held her chin up, her breasts pert and on display proudly with borrowed confidence.

“Oh I do,” Anya said quietly with a soft smile and looked down at the stiff pink nipples that stood to attention for her, “but I don’t need you to guess what I like and what I don’t like. I’ll tell you what I want you to do for me,” she whispered and slipped a hand around the side of her belly. “And in return I want you to do the same and if you don’t like something or if something doesn’t feel good for you, I want you to tell me to stop. Do you understand?”

“Okay,” Clarke blinked and breathed; a ruined mess of a woman.

“Okay Daddy.” Anya corrected her with a stern brow.

Clarke’s soft blue eyes shot up and stared in absolute disbelief. Did Anya want her to call her that word? The thought stalled her for a moment. She blinked and licked her lips, the headiness, the offensiveness, the unusualness of that word hanging from her hot tongue.

“I’m going to touch you now, is that alright Clarke?” Anya tilted her chin.

“Yes Daddy,” Clarke blurted. 

Her own eagerness aroused her all the more.

“Such a pretty little bird,” Anya crooned and moved the hand around Clarke’s waist towards her ass. She slipped inside the waistband of her underwear and grazed her palm over the goosebumped skin. “You want this so badly, don’t you?” She growled with hot breath.

“For months.” Clarke whimpered and pressed forward into Anya’s shoulder.

A sting shot through her ass, a blistering slap that made her whimper and gnash and bury her open mouth into the taste of Anya’s leather jacket. It was as pleasant as it was violent, it made her small and soft in all the ways she fantasised about being.

“I want you to correct what you just said. When you answer a question you call me Daddy, do you understand?” Anya told her sternly with wild narrowed eyes.

“Yes Daddy,” the whimper came.

“Do you like the way it feels when I slap your ass like that?” Anya asked coolly, roughly grabbing the pink skin with her palm now printed across it.

“Yes Daddy, I do,” Clarke admitted shamefully with a deep breath.

“Good girl,” Anya humiliated her with the pretty words on her tongue, “I’m going to take your underwear off now, but those little white socks you’re wearing? Oh they can stay on.” She smoldered in sheer pleasure.

Hands hooked into Clarke’s underwear and pulled them down her thighs until the cool air hit her cunt and made her groan. She looked down and watched as Anya sank down and pulled the underwear along her legs, that long blonde ponytail swaying slightly over her shoulder blades and spine. 

The sight made Clarke weak.

The underwear were worked down her calves and ankles, finally falling limp on the floor. She felt Anya’s hot breath move over her pussy, grazing her flushed and swollen lips until the urge to push forward into her plump waiting mouth nearly killed her. Clarke’s legs grew wobbly until a hand shot out for leverage and grabbed the nearest thing available: Anya herself.

“You hanging in there?” Anya looked up from where she kneeled between her thighs, a shaking pale hand resting against the ball of her shoulder.

Clarke gritted her teeth. “Barely,” she whispered and ached, “I’m so turned on.” She admitted with soft whimper.

“Poor baby,” Anya tutted and stood up, “Where do you want Daddy’s attention?” She smirked darkly.

“You’re going to spank me if I don’t say that word… aren’t you?” Clarke whispered and closed her eyes in shame.

“You learn so fast.”

Clarke exhaled and opened her eyes slowly, staring into the sea washed green orbs that threatened to drag her out into the balmy tide. She grew brave, “I want Daddy to touch me slowly and see what a mess tonight has made of me,” she whispered with gravel and earned Daddy’s shuddering breath.

A slow hand pushed between her thighs and ruined her entire life. It felt that way, monumental and awakening. Clarke drew a shaky breath and fell into the warm of Anya’s hissing breath while her fingers slipped through her arousal. Daddy caught her with the free arm, drawing her close into her chest.

Two fingers pushed through her cunt and teased around her entrance, softly scissoring and threatening to push further inside. Her thin wetness clinged to Anya’s fingers in tiny drips that stretched like strands of pure need. Clarke felt herself begin to burn alive.

“I’m going to conquer you and make you mine tonight, do you understand me?” Anya growled against her pink ear and bit the lobe, “I’m going to give you so much and you’re going to take every last bit of it and be my good girl.” She grunted and spread her flushed lips open with two fingers.

Clarke leaned up and kissed her with soft pink lips that needed to know that burning taste of whiskey and smoke. Two soft hands cupped Daddy’s cheeks, the warm tip of her nose dragging her chiselled jawline.

“Can I see what you’re hiding underneath your jeans?”

“Oh you can do more than see it,” Anya said softly. “Go and kneel in front of the sofa.”

She did as she was told, and was rewarded plentifully for the obedience. Anya sat down comfortably and left her kneeling between her knees in peaceful silence for a moment, staring down with smouldering eyes and a pleased smile. She stroked Clarke’s cheek and drew her thumb along her jaw in reverent reassurance that this was okay, this was normal, there was nothing to be ashamed about other than the things Anya designed to be shameful.

And those things were meant and encouraged to be enjoyed.

Clarke kneeled and felt her thighs ache, felt her calves ache, felt everything ache and simultaneously not ache enough. She watched Anya lean back with a smirk and take her leather jacket off.

“This?” Anya smiled and dragged the black leather jacket around her shoulders, “You should wear this while you’re on your knees for me. Now put your hands on my knees.”

Clarke smiled and did as she was told.

“Such a good girl,” Lexa smiled from the door.

Clarke didn’t even hear her walk in. She suddenly became aware of the fact she wasn’t self conscious at all, didn’t even care in the slightest that a new dominant gaze was dragging itself over her naked and pink body in absolute admiration.

“Thanks,” Clarke said and licked her lips.

Anya laughed and pulled her chin until Clarke was fixed on her stare again, “She wasn’t talking to you pretty girl.” She whispered.

Clarke felt a sudden torrent of jealousy bluster inside her stomach.

Anya turned her attention away as Lexa walked around and removed her coat, laying it on the back of the chesterfield armchair. “If the little droplets between her thighs on my treated wooden floor are anything to go by, you’ve gave her your best work?”

“Not even half, Daddy.” Anya husked.

Clarke’s insides began to twist listening to their conversation.

“Clarke, look at me?” Lexa’s voice commanded softly. It was different to Anya’s brooding tone. Lexa was soft and self assured in a way that was entirely unconquerable, as if she was so far beyond the realms of black and white that she had become a colour all to herself. As if no matter who was in this room, for whatever reason, in whatever role, she was always like this. Always quiet and grounded like a mountain or a monolith.

Clarke did as she was told and slowly looked up at her.

“If you just want to play with Anya that is okay, do you understand?” She said reassuringly.

“I know,” Clarke swallowed and kneeled straighter. “But I still want you too.”

It made Lexa smile. “Has Anya explained that if you want something to stop, you just have to say the word?”

“Yeah, but I don’t,” Clarke nodded and exhaled.

“Then don’t let me stop you.” Lexa whispered with a long drag of her eyes that worked her body up and down in admiration, “Anya,” she moved her stare to the sofa, “I’m going to sit here and get my emails out of the way. Continue as you were, I’ll watch you both with what I’m sure to be absolute blinding arousal, and I’ll join in when I’m good and ready.”

Anya nodded and looked back down at Clarke with a dark and wantful smile, “Oh you’re in trouble now, kitten.” She whispered and unzipped her jeans.

There was something different about Anya now and Clarke understood it, because there was something different about her too. A need to impress, almost. It made Anya all the more smouldering and sharp.

She pulled her zipper down and pulled the waistband down her hips until something thick and pink bulged and begged to be pulled free.

“You’re going to make a whore of yourself for me pretty girl,” Anya growled and pulled her cock free. The strap on was eight inches, thick and lingering with the smell of Anya’s skin. It made Clarke weak.

Anya gathered her hair and pulled her sharply, dragging her mouth over the head of her cock and down her shaft.

“Spit and suck on it, get it nice and wet like a good girl.”

Clarke heard the patter of a keyboard pause, she knew Lexa had stopped to watch. It made her burn with absolute need.

“Yes Daddy,” Clarke said it softly and pushed forward with an eager mouth.

She worked her as if she was working a man. As if Anya could feel every flutter of her tongue, every particularly slow pop as she came undone at the head of her cock, every vibration of her guttural moans. She sucked slow and bobbed down against the gag of her windpipe—absolutely determined to become the lion and catch the pair of them like rabbits that had no idea what they had quite gotten themselves into.

Her efforts made the hand in her hair squeeze until her scalp hurt.

She rested a hand on top of Anya’s thigh and pressed the other firmly into the warm belly beneath her slouchy t-shirt. Her stomach was slim, the ghost of abdominals rippling against her fingers with every aroused clench of her muscles. 

Whatever she was doing, Anya was enjoying it.

“Do you know how pretty you look? Naked in my jacket?” Anya pulled the hair in her fist sharply until Clarke was forced to stare up at her.

“Good enough to eat, Daddy?” Clarke mumbled in arousal and blinked slowly.

She heard Lexa laugh. “Oh I like this one. This one is a natural,” her voice followed after the chuckle. The pitter patter of a keyboard quickly resumed.

“C’mere,” Anya said softly and drew her attention back, “I wanna be mean to you little bird,” she crooned and pulled Clarke up onto her feet.

“Mean to me?”

“Meaner than you’re going to like,” Anya smirked wickedly and pulled Clarke on top of her until she was straddling her lap. “I’m going to slip inside of you, fuck you so deep and gentle, I’m going to rub your clit and kiss your neck and growl disgusting things that you’re going to love right into your ear… and then I’m going to let you cum. I’m going to let you cum all over me just once and then I’m not going to let you cum again. Not even if you beg.” Anya promised with a soft glint in her almond eyes.

“Wait, what?” Clarke whined helplessly, wide-eyed and made to realise how much she did not want this to end.

“You better hope you don’t cum quickly, little bird,” Anya pushed the head of her cock between her flushed lips.

“Daddy please,” Clarke whimpered and dug her fingers in each tensing shoulder.

The pitter patter of eager keys stopped and this time they didn’t resume. Clarke noted in her head that Lexa was watching with unbroken attention.

Anya pressed the head of her cock against her entrance lazily, slowly, working in tight circles against the clench of her dripping muscle. 

“You want Daddy’s cock?” Anya crooned and leaned forward, taking a stiff pink nipple between her teeth.

“God yes please, please daddy,” Clarke helplessly whimpered and felt teeth scrape over her nipple.

Anya released the nipple with her teeth and pressed hot gentle kisses against her breasts, cooling and relighting the burn simultaneously.

“How could I say no to you little bird?” 

Clarke groaned and cried out with bellowing abandon as the length was pushed inside inch by aching inch. She stretched, or, rather, was made to. Anya pushed so slow and relentless, so purposeful, so evilly aware that Clarke would not last long. Her hips and ass eventually pushed up from the seat of the sofa and met the join of her pelvis.

“Your dripping on me like a slut,” Anya hissed and pushed in deep and hard. “Oh you’re so close, you’re so fucking close,” she growled and thrusted up harder into Clarke’s cunt.

Suddenly, without warning, Clarke was airborne. Her thighs hung over Anya’s forearms and she was made to cling around the back of her neck, held there and fucked in the air as if she was lighter than a feather. It was effortless the way Anya did it, the way her shoulders and back rippled, the way her teeth gnashed, the way her hips pounded again and again into the dripping swollen mess between her thighs.

Clarke began to come undone.

“Daddy please, please, not yet,” Clark groaned out and clinged to her tighter, “please don’t make me cum yet,” she begged and cried out.

A voice boomed from the armchair and made them both stop.

“Don’t you dare let her cum yet!” Lexa growled and closed her laptop.

Anya huffed out of breath, flushed and panting for air. She slowly turned back to Clarke, “Oh you’re really in for it now…” she almost looked sympathetic as she put her back down on her feet.

“Clarke, I want you to get on your knees for me please.” Lexa told her calmly.

She wanted to protest, wanted to suddenly change her mind and beg Anya to let her have her one and long awaited for orgasm. There was something about the way that Lexa stared, intent, collected, possessively, wistfully, that made her melt like ice cream dripping down the stick of her spine.

Clarke gathered her breath while Lexa walked around above her.

“What am I supposed to call you? Is there a name?”

“No name,” Lexa reassured softly, “when I touch you, when I arouse you, when I make you burn with need I want you to call me by my name so there’s absolutely no confusion who it was who did that to you. Will you do that for me, Clarke?”

“Yes,” her voice became small and needy.

“Good girl, thank you.” Lexa stepped into her line of sight with a smile. “Now, I’d like to use some of my more exciting tools of the trade on you as I promised earlier. Is that still okay with you?” She pulled a long thin chain from the pocket of her slacks and dangled it in front of Clarke’s wide blue eyes.

“Will it hurt?”

“God I hope so.” Lexa whispered darkly.

Clarke nodded and pushed her chest out, “I really, really, really want you both to teach me,” she whispered nervously and closed her eyes.

“Oh I like this one so much,” she heard Anya mutter.

“I know you do, she’s growing on me too.” Lexa replied, “Now take your strapon off and give it to me before I have to make an example out of you, Anya.”

Clarke opened her eyes again and watched the opened clamps bite into her nipples. The sting was immediate and hot, enough that she gasped and rocked forward in perfect and blinding despair.

“I know, I know baby, let them feel good,” the god above crooned and slipped a warm hand down her spine.

“Let them feel good?” Clarke said it as if it was impossible task.

“Well, not quite.” Lexa kneeled and cupped her cheeks, “Hey, hey, hey, stay with me, don’t go floating off into space,” she grinned and smoothed her hand around. “Are you with me Clarke?”

“I’m with you.”

“Good girl, such a good girl,” she crooned and smiled, “I want you to let them hurt, and I want you to let them burn, and I want you to bite your bottom lip and let that heat find its way into your belly and swirl around until that pretty wet pussy is the only thing you can focus on. I want you to kneel there for me and let me see you hurt so pretty, all for me and her,” Lexa grabbed her chin and made her stare at Anya too.

Clarke felt her cunt begin to quiver and clench on precisely nothing.

“Oh I know that look,” Anya stepped forward and touched Lexa’s shoulder. “She wants you to push something inside her.”

Lexa smiled and dragged her finger along Clarke’s collarbone, “Is that what you want, Clarke?”

Clarke nodded, her cheeks made taut by her hung mouth.

Lexa stood and undid her slacks, she kicked them off quickly and stood there in nothing but her dress shirt. She rolled it up at the forearms and pulled the strap on up her thighs, pulling the strips of material tight until the cock sat proud and stiff between her hips.

“Anya?” Lexa stared at her with dark eyes.

“Yeah?” She said softly.

“Oh don’t play shy in front of company, you know what to call me. I’d hate to have to show Clarke what I do with insolent girls so early in the evening.”

Anya gritted her teeth and craned her head for a moment with a roll of the eyes, “Yes Daddy?” She turned back, softer and more polite.

“Suck my cock clean.”

Anya inhaled and paused for a moment, the gnash and heat rolling away until she was pliable and soft just for Lexa. Only for Lexa. It made Clarke itch and ache, made her want to lean forward and make herself a part of these games.

But still she remained, her nipples burning and her cunt still clenching.

“Now,” Lexa turned back and looked down at her while Anya kneeled and set to work with a hungry mouth. “Whatever am I going to keep you full with, I wonder?”

“If I remember correctly you were pretty clear about it earlier?” Anya came undone and looked up with smouldering dark eyes.

“I was, wasn’t I?” Lexa said softly and stroked her hair, “Wasn’t I, Clarke?” Lexa snapped and said it sternly.

The sharpness of her voice made Clarke moan, “You were,” she said helplessly.

“Bend over,” Lexa demanded and pulled herself free from Anya’s mouth.

Clarke pushed forward until she was on all fours. The burn in her soft pink nipples was made deliciously worse as the chain moved and swayed and sent lightning through her breasts. It was enough to make her buckle and grunt, her teeth clenching together, her spine trembling, her fingers aching with nothing to find purchase in other than the bare wooden floor.

“Oh you’re okay,” Anya whispered sympathetically and stroked her hair. “You know you can stop any time, right?”

“I know, I just don’t want to.” Clarke pushed her head forward into the cradle of Anya’s chest for a moment.

“Do you want me to do this, Clarke?” Lexa said from behind her hips.

“Yes, I really do,” Clarke groaned and settled her cheek on the floor.

“Then ask me like a good girl.”

Clarke shivered in aroused embarrassment, “Please Lexa,” she whispered and looked over the ball of her shoulder to find those calm green eyes, “will you push it inside of me?” She urged.

“Put your head in Anya’s lap.” Lexa commanded and pulled her cheeks apart.

Clarke shivered again and through her head down until her cheeks were pressed between Anya’s thighs. She inhaled the soft smell of her laundry detergent, waiting, anticipating, hanging from the edge of herself.

She felt Lexa spred her open and burned in perfect humiliation between Anya’s legs.

And then she felt the glob of spit hit her tightest hole from the curl of Lexa’s mouth. A thumb pushed against her, teasing and pressing and making her stretch just a little bit.

Clarke didn’t think she would survive it, but, the press of cold metal came, and survive it she did.

“Oh you’re going to hate how much you love this,” Anya whispered down and grabbed the back of her blonde hair, rendering her immobile and buried in her lap.

She slowly stretched around the relentless and unforgiving metal, Lexa saw to that. She pushed and pushed and pushed, then, she paused and pulled back just slightly. Clarke felt herself close again and nearly sobbed into the sensation of her lost progress.

“You’re okay, you’re alright,” Lexa promised and stroked the back of her ass with a soft hushing noise.

“Lexa please?” Clarke cried and tried to push backwards, “Please don’t make me ache? Please let me have it?”

“Oh sweetheart,” Lexa sighed and pushed a little harder until she was made to relent and give way around the bulb, “you sound so pretty when your achy and stretched though?”

Lexa pulled out entirely. It made Clarke empty every breath in her body.

“Would you look at that,” Lexa sighed and pushed her thumb against her ass, “pretty and pink and quivering on nothing.” She growled.

“Lexa please??” Clarke nearly wailed in need.

“What do you think Anya, has she earned it?” Lexa asked calmly.

“You know… I’m not sure…”

“Please!” Clarke wrangled and tried to push her hips back blindly into nothing, “Please I’ll be so good, I’ll be so good I swear,”

Anya’s arms grew tight and protective around her. It made Clarke still herself, hopefully.

“Let her have it.” Anya burned with aching arousal.

The metal pushed against her ass again and this time it didn’t stop, not once, not even for breath, it pushed and it pushed and it kept coming until Clarke had no choice to grip Anya’s thighs and dig through her jeans for purchase. She felt herself begin to flex and stretch, gasping and choking on the empty breath in her throat as it dawned on her that Lexa wasn’t going to stop. Wasn’t going to let her breathe. Wasn’t going to give her a single second this time to get used to that burning sting.

Eventually, it settled within her, and Clarke found herself fuller than she had ever felt in her life.

“Good girl, you did so good,” Lexa reassured and rubbed her ass cheeks slowly. She spread them occasionally and appraised her work. “Breathe,” Lexa encouraged with a chuckle, “Breathe Clarke,”

Clarke did as she was told and drew a breath.

“Are you still with us little bird?” Anya asked softly and checked in.

Clarke nodded, her face still pressed into her lap.

“Do you wanna come out from there?” Anya asked again.

Clarke shook her head and remained.

“Well alright then.” Anya murmured and stroked her hair.

Clarke settled and gathered herself, it dawned on her that Lexa was true to her promise. Her breasts hurt in the most delicious was possible, her nipples were sore and yet it didn’t matter, not for a second, because her stomach swirled with something deeper and blinding.

Tentatively Clarke pulled her head up and adjusted her eyes to the low light of the lamp.

“There she is,” Anya crooned and dried two dribbling tears with her thumbs. “You doing okay?”

“Oh I’m doing great,” Clarke husked and burned.

It made them both laugh.

Clarke felt Lexa’s hands come undone from her hips, then heard the creak of her footsteps shift and move back around.

“Wait,” Clarke snapped around and found herself suddenly wordless, “I thought,” she looked at the strapon and back up at Lexa. “I thought…”

“You thought this was for you?” Lexa looked down at her cock and laughed, “No Clarke, this is a reward, a gift, something that you have absolutely not earned yet.” She said stern and absolute. “I want you to get up on your knees and put your hands on your thighs, you’re going to sit there and be perfectly quiet until I tell you move. Do you understand me little girl?”

“Yes Lexa,” Clarke groaned and felt the plug nestled in her ass start to shift as she backed herself onto her knees.

“Anya,” Lexa turned back around and stared with smouldering fire, “Take your clothes off and get on the sofa.”

No.

She can’t.

They can’t just.

Oh god, no. Clarke thought to herself in absolute despair.

Anya slinked and moved like liquid, each movement so reverent and pleased. She made the torture slow and pulled each item of clothing free as if her skin was a gift. It was, Clarke knew that. But it didn’t make this kind of humiliation burn any less.

“Don’t you dare look away, not even for a second.” Lexa warned and leaned down. 

She kissed Clarke and it took her by surprise, made the pain fleeting and far away if only for a brief moment. Her lips tasted like foreboding and patience, as if, Lexa could drag this out until Clarke was a yearning puddle of a mess stuck on her bleeding knees.

And Clarke wouldn’t mind one single bit.

“I want you to watch, do you understand me?” Lexa whispered and cupped her cheek, “I want you to look at her when she cums, I want you to stare and feel yourself drip down your thighs and let your ass clench and quiver and know that I am not going to let you cum until she is spent and done and completely drained.”

“Fuck,” Clarke hissed and found her arousal relit and abundant, “Yes Lexa, I’ll watch and I’ll be so quiet and patient.”

It earned a brief and fleeting genuine smile.

“Thank you, that’s all I ask.”

The room became a quiet symphony of kisses that she was not entitled to be a part of, a blazing fire of heat and skin that was not her own, a collision of women that she could only watch and yearn for. 

And she did, oh, did she yearn.

Anya was as beautiful as she imagined she would be beneath all of that black. She was slim and taut and tan, her thighs never ending and her patience shorter than she imagined it would be. 

Lexa kissed her with kind of patient sweetness that made Clarke begin to evaporate. Her jaw grew slack and stiff, her mouth permanently ajar, her eyes unable to tear away from the rhythm they played one another with, and even if she wanted to look away she couldn’t. They were magnetising. They were beautiful. They were a collision in motion and Clarke knew it was all for her.

Lexa grabbed her ass and pulled her close into the heat of her chest, her teeth nipping at her plump bottom lip until Anya was cupping her chiselled jawline—pulling away to search her eyes for something. 

Was she looking for love? Was she looking for mercy? Was she looking for a symptom that her burning arousal would soon be tended to with expert hands too? 

Clarke would never be entitled to know; all she could do was watch them unfurl like violent perfect flowers in the heat of spring like a buzzard from afar.

Lexa pushed her over the arm of the sofa and dragged the tip of her cock between her slender, golden, trembling legs. Anya gasped and dug her fingers into a throw cushion. Lexa pushed inside with one fluid motion. Clarke watched Anya’s eyes roll into the back of her head

It nearly made her slump in absolute defeat.

“Don’t you dare!” Lexa boomed and threw her a stare that made Clarke instinctively kneel upright. “You kneel right there and you watch her cum.”

Lexa made quick work of her first orgasm, and Clarke was grateful. She knelt and stared and dripped off of her very bones, the ache in her nipples and the fullness of her ass wisping and melting and meeting one another in the brim of her stomach until she felt the first sweet drip roll down the inside of her leg.

When the second came Clarke thought she might too. Anya panted and pushed back violently, the sound of their slapping hips ringing through the room like the beat of a war drum. It was intoxicating. It left her jaw open and her tongue pushing into the floor of the back of her bottom teeth so hard the muscle ached.

Perhaps this was what happened when an immovable object met an unstoppable force, Clarke thought and swallowed against the clench of her throat.

The third came, the fourth came, the fifth came, and by the time the fifth came, it rode in on the tails of Anya’s long and desperate moans. She pushed back and fought Lexa the entire way, her body the wartorn last stand of a woman who refused to be subdued and satiated. Her legs trembled, her spine low, her elbows barely enough to keep her from collapsing like a thin sheet strewn over the sofa.

“Look at her,” Anya panted, her cheek planted into the seat of the sofa. Her eyes were golden and hazed with the warmth of her orgasm, her body shivering with each shallow thrust of Lexa’s hips. She panted against the red leather and continued to stare at Clarke, “Take care of her,” Anya relented and blinked.

“You’re not finished.” Lexa growled and slammed inside again.

“You won’t make a monster out of me too,” Anya dug her foot in the bone of Lexa’s hip and stopped her from taking another out of her. “Take care of her before the little bird flies away.” She chuckled and rolled on her back, panting and finished.

Her small tanned breasts rose and fell with each pant and despite her aching arousal, despite the burning of her breasts, despite the shaking of her knees, Clarke knew she hadn’t seen anything so beautiful in her entire life.

“You’re going soft with age,” Lexa raised a brow and pulled her cock free.

“Yeah yeah,” Anya panted and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, “You like that about me.”

“Not in the slightest.” Lexa teased dryly and settled a hand on her belly. “You think she’s ready?”

“I’m really so very, very, very ready.” Clarke choked out the words with aching despair.

“Did it look like she was talking to you little bird?” Anya cocked a brow.

“No ma’am,” Clarke gulped.

Slowly, Anya nodded in satisfaction with the response. She turned back and smiled at Lexa, “Well,” she said, “After some undue concurring with my little friend over there…” she made a quick and playful glare, “I think she’s ready. Have at her. I’m going to go to bed before you kill me with orgasms.”

“What a way to burn out of this world.” Lexa chuckled and stroked.

“I’m not ruling it out completely, just not tonight.” Anya patted her arm and sat up with a long stretch. “If you want to stay tonight you can crash with me when you’re finished, or her, whatever works.” Anya said to Clarke with a yawn and padded to the door.

Clarke just nodded, absolutely in transit to Jupiter, still.

“C’mere,” Lexa finally beckoned Clarke with a curling finger and a smirk deep enough to take the Mariana Trench for a ride. “You’ve been such a good patient girl, do you know that? I want you to come here and lie down where she’s kept it warm for you.”

Something snapped and Clarke careened back to earth like a meteor blazing through the starlit sky. She jarred to life and stood from her knees, wobbling and adjusting to the rush of blood that tingled through her legs.

“Easy now,” Lexa lurched forward and grabbed her, “You’re okay, do you need a minute?”

Lexa was strong and sturdy, she was solid, she was there and built for purpose. Clarke grabbed her cheeks and kissed her as if she would die without it. Lexa stiffened and growled, slowly relenting, slowly making herself soft, slowly giving her patient little bird what she needed. Clarke pressed herself against her chest and opened her mouth, allowing a tongue to gently move and make a honeydew mess of her flushed thighs.

“Do you want me to be gentle for you?” Lexa said calmly and nudged her nose along the ridge of her own.

Clarke shook her head and slipped arms around the back of Lexa’s neck, “Don’t be gentle, just be nice,” she whispered with gravel.

Lexa unbuttoned her shirt and nodded into another kiss, her bra came off next, and that tiny act was enough to submerge Clarke entirely in the ocean of all that she was.

“Let me take these off,” Lexa whispered and touched her breasts.

“Is it going to hurt?” Clarke blinked.

“God I hope so.” Lexa pushed her down on the sofa and clambered on top of her, pulling her thighs up around her waist. She hesitated and pushed her hands up Clarke’s chest, cupping and squeezing her perfect breasts. “Take a big breath for me,” Lexa instructed.

The breath was taken. Lexa removed the teeth set in Clarke’s nipples and earned a sharp gasp.

“I know, I know baby,” Lexa hushed and rubbed her breasts until the fire became a dwindling manageable heat.

The plug was next. Lexa rolled Clarke on her belly and teased it out, inch by aching inch, twisting and pulling so slow and tender. Clarke felt it move inside of her, felt every twist and small tug until eventually, once more, she was quivering and clenching on nothing with her face buried into the seat of the leather sofa.

Lexa made sure it was a brief and temporary state.

“Please,” Clarke groaned out and grabbed her hand suddenly, “No teasing, no playing, please just let me cum, please,” she mumbled, losing and finding herself simultaneously in this terrain created for her by the god above.

“Okay Clarke,” Lexa whispered into the back of her neck.

She pushed inside of her cunt with one slow and relentless motion. Eventually, her hips reached their furthest point and Clarke’s long whimpers dwindled with the last of her breath. She settled on Clarke’s spine and pressed lazy kisses to the back of the ear.

“So wet and perfect,” Lexa purred and pushed harder. 

It earned a sob of pleasure.

The grind of Lexa’s hips became hard and relentless. Her hips moved in tight perfect circles, her cock filling and stretching and pushing Clarke towards the brink of her sanity. She dug her hands into the divots of Clarke’s spine and kept her buried on her belly, kept her whimpers dampened in the leather of the sofa.

“When you stood there,” Lexa leaned and panted in her ear with another slow grind of her cock, “When you watched us walk in here every Friday night for weeks on end, shivering in the cold, daring yourself to come inside, did you ever think this would happen?”

“Oh god I hoped it would,” Clarke whimpered and admitted without hesitation.

“Oh I am so glad you did.” Lexa growled possessively and bit the lobe of her ear and began to pound a little harder and faster.

Clarke began to cry out, began to whimper and clench, her sobs a fast and hard rhythm as her cunt was used and taken the way she fantasised it would be. Lexa fucked her into a fast series of wails, of pleas, of sobs, of cries and grunts and hisses and whimpers.

“That’s it Clarke,” Lexa growled and pounded harder, her hips slapping her ass. “Take what you want from me, take what you need.”

Clarke pushed herself back into the onslaught of Lexa’s thrusts and came undone quickly.

“Cum for me.” Lexa ordered tenderly.

Clarke obliged and gave her everything with tight sobbing cries that only grew louder and louder. She threw herself over the cliff’s edge of her orgasm. It was a deep and stormy sea that swallowed her whole, a torrent that only dragged her out further and further until she couldn’t feel anything beneath her feet. 

Lexa thrusted deeper and fucked her harder and took her completely, bred her, owned her, drowned her in the wrath of her orgasm.

“No more!” Clarke panted out the words as everything became blinding white and sensitive, “I can’t take anymore!” 

Immediately, everything stopped.

“You were perfect,” Lexa promised and made herself soft on top of her spine. “Are you okay? Was it too much?”

“No no, it was perfect,” Clarke’s voice became a muffled lazy noise against the sofa beneath, “I just need to catch my breath.”

“I’ve got you, you’re alright,” Lexa whispered and fell into the space between her body and the back of the sofa.

Clarke remained and gathered her breath, slowly coming back down to earth. Lexa stroked her spine, then her ribs, then her hair, whispering soft pretty things until the ground greeted Clarke’s feet once more and she felt slightly more solid.

Slowly, she craned her neck and stared at the soft green eyes peering back.

“That was amazing,” she exhaled and smiled softly.

“I am so glad to be of service,” Lexa promised with a pleased sort of grin.

Clarke imagined that expression was a rarely earned thing from a girl like Lexa. It made her savour it all the more. She inhaled and felt the exhaustion settle on top of her like a roof, Clarke slowly and swallowed the dryness in her throat.

“You wanna go get some rest?” Lexa offered and pushed hair behind her ear, “You can slip in my bed, if you want to?”

God does she want to.

“I’ll get in bed with Anya, if that’s okay?” Clarke mumbled and blinked herself awake.

“Oh,” Lexa seemed surprised, “Of course, no problem.”

The feeling persisted in Clarke’s chest that Lexa was used to being the first pick. The smouldering easy decision that every girl who crossed her dark intent stare found herself making. She was certain of that much, and in a brief moment of clarity found herself making a decision to set her apart from the rest.

She would make herself their favourite, one way or another, and Lexa seemed the kind of woman who liked a challenge.

Besides, Anya looked like the kind to make a hell of a big spoon.

“Do you want a glass of water?” Lexa offered as Clarke sat up and stretched.

“I’m good, but thank you.” She turned back and smiled, “Really, thank you for tonight.”

“Maybe we could do it again sometime?”

“Maybe,” Clarke bit her bottom lip. “Goodnight Lexa.”

“Goodnight Clarke,” she nodded.

Anya’s bedroom was dark and warm, the heat of the radiators immediately enveloping Clarke as she toed carefully inside. She closed the door behind herself and shut out the dim light of the living room until all that remained was a strip of orange beneath the door and a foreign terrain that now had to be navigated in the pitch black.

“Well aren’t you a clever girl,” Anya yawned from beneath a pile of blankets. An arm reached over and slapped around the blankets for a corner; when it was found it was yanked back to make room on the mattress for Clarke. “Come on little bird, you better still be naked.” She said sternly.

“So you and Lexa are just friends?” Clarke settled in front of Anya, “Just platonic ordinary friends. Business associates, even?”

“Friendship is a loosely defined term.” Anya said plainly and pulled the blankets over Clarke. 

They settled quickly beneath the warmth of the room. Her pillows smelled of clean linen and the slight lingering of her perfume, Clarke inhaled a deep breath of it as an arm dragged around her waist and pulled her into the nook of warm naked hips.

The sound of Lexa’s bedroom door clicked into the frame, the sound of the light flicking off following shortly after that.

“You know,” Anya said softly into the back of her shoulder blade, “I haven’t met many girls who send Lexa Woods to bed alone. Least of all to clamber in with me.”

“She wouldn’t have been as grateful as you, Daddy,” Clarke teased mirthlessly and slipped her hand over the knuckles on her belly. “Besides, maybe she needs someone to make her work for first place, once in awhile at least,” she surmounted wisely.

Clarke felt Anya smirk into her skin. “Go to sleep before you make me want to fuck you again.”

 

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	3. Part Trois

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I have a Swedish ex-girlfriend who adored this story, and she once diverted back to her apartment on snowy roads to throw a sweet bun on the balcony for me to wake up to like she was feeding a seagull which is the still the nicest thing a person has done for me and I've never forgot. I always promised I would give her more chapters so this is the gesture returned and you can all thank her for this abomination of an encore. I hope you're out there somewhere fingering yourself vigorously babe—no hard feelings, ever xoxo_

She is lost to the overbearingness of the binds that keep her limbs straining from each corner of the bed. It’s the steel clamps keeping her nipples stiff and aching with a need for attention that do it. The plug in her bottom that keeps her oh so deliciously full and uncomfortable, gracefully prone on her spine. She is aware all too late that she is far gone and lost in her own stormy seas. The sound of impatient nails tapping the war chest at the bottom of the bed has her chest rising, her breaths simpering and transforming into moans. The knowledge that she is being watched, admired, looked upon in this humiliating state makes a wet and barely conflicted girl of her.

“What you’re feeling right now,” Anya husked a low and sultry whisper, opening the lid of the war chest. “This is what it is to be a chrysalis… A creature in transformation, not quite ready to bloom, but oh so deliciously trying to anyway.” She sounded pleased.

Clarke closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip, writhing her hips ever so slightly. It was the way Anya spoke during these games that made the illusion and fantasy so masterful. Anya was always so chipper and easy to understand when they were beyond the walls of this little slice of purgatory tucked away above the bar. Then, once the front door closed behind them, Anya became an entire god drenched in calomime flames that soothed as quickly as they burned and destroyed.

“You like it when I’m all tied up like this, antsy for you?” Clarke opened her eyes and watched the god before her falter.

Anya cracked a tight smile. “You’re difficult to train. I like that about you,” she said, fiddling with something Clarke couldn’t see.

“Whatever are you going to do when you make a perfect pet out of me, Daddy?” Clarke found a piece of herself and clung to it for dear life, teasing away as if she weren’t tied open at the ankles and glistening.

“I hope the day doesn’t come, pretty bird. I like tying you up too much.” Anya never missed a beat.

“Daddy, she would be so mad if she knew I came to see you while she was at work.”

“Lexa wouldn’t be mad,” Anya disagreed instantly and closed the lid to the war chest, revealing the strap on poking proudly at her hips through the opening of her black silky dressing gown. “We both know you see us privately from time to time. You don’t have to hide it, honesty is a virtue.”

Clarke’s body was climbed across slowly, bit by bit. The loose silk from Anya’s kimono sent her flush skin into waves of goosebumps. Then, the knee that inelegantly grazed into her cunt earned a hissing whimper. The god on top of her finally settled, pushed up on her elbows, staring down at her adoring little pet. Clarke inhaled and stared up at Anya, unsure of what to do with the information that both of her goddesses knew about the little game she was playing. It was a game, absolutely. She would often see them both in private, hoping in some subversive way that it would drive them up the wall with jealousy. Apparently it was a game she was losing at if Anya’s wry smirk was anything to go by. She inhaled and became all the more nervous.

“You think it makes me jealous that you sneak around when I’m at work? That I’m torn up over the thought of you between her thighs licking her gently like a good little bitch?” Her brow raised into an amused look. “In fact please forget I said anything. I don’t want you to stop. It makes my work day just a little more bearable.”

“Al...alright.” Clarke felt herself become stuck. “So, does that mean no punishment?”

“Well I didn’t say that, did I?”

“A girl can hope.”

“That she can, naively and stupidly.” Anya grabbed her chin hard, suddenly Daddy all over again in all the ways that made Clarke weak. “Can you feel how big my strap is baby or do I need to use your throat to show you?”

The dildo pressed up against her was thick and firm. Clarke had been fucked at least two dozen times with every type of toy she thought she could have imagined over the last three months but the way Anya was prodding her with this toy was different; like it was a weapon, a utensil, a tool to make a good girl out of her. Clarke closed her eyes and shook her head softly.

“I can feel how big you are,” she whispered nervously.

When she opened her eyes again, Anya was biting a soft smile. It was a reassuring sight and on some atomic level Clarke was grateful for the offering. It reminded her that these were games, just silly little games that she always had the power to say no to. Anya and Lexa always reminded her of that, always. In fact after a while the act of being reminded so much became repetitive and boring in Clarke’s mind, but, right now, she was grateful for the soft little smile. She inhaled and took back control of herself.

“It’s alright if you need a break? I want you in it for the marathon tonight not the sprint dash,” Anya assured.

“I don’t need a break. I like everything so far. A thousand greens.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, Daddy.”

“Good,” Daddy slipped forward and kissed the tip of her nose. It embarrassed Clarke. “Tell me everything you’re feeling right now.” Anya’s hand reached between her legs and played with the base of the plug at her entrance.

Clarke moaned and fluttered her eyes closed. The plug between her thighs was twisted and pulled on, allowed to torturously stretch her ass open against the flare stuck inside of her and then released, the plug settling back into her guts once again. The movement in her ass was slow and intense, she was so full and yet the needy little part of herself she had only discovered existed a few months ago still craved for more. Her breasts were a stinging throb that she wished she could touch, that she desperately wanted to rub and play with and make go away. The fact that her wrists were tied down and prevented such comforts only added to her arousal and helplessness, which she had learned in more recent times were feelings so deeply connected to one another. 

She tried to explain all of these concepts as best she could, slowly, blushing and mumbling and whimpering choked out sounds as Anya played with the knot in her ass and grinded into her with overwhelming approval.

“You’re such a fucking bad little bitch,” Anya growled when she was finished, her entire body hot and tense with arousal, pressing into every nook and crevice of Clarke’s soft frame. “Do you know what I do with bad little bitches that I adore as much as you?” She spat out the words with another low growl.

“Show me, Daddy?” Clarke finally let go.

Anya pulled the plug out of her ass so slowly that Clarke felt herself cling down on it, unwilling to let it go. When it finally came loose she felt her entire body become suddenly empty, the feeling both devastating and damn-near climatic. It left her needy and unable to hold back the wrath of her submission. She tried to lurch forward, tried to grab Anya, tried to get her hands on that burning little god and… she wasn’t even sure what came next. Anya grabbed her by the throat and held her down on the pillows, her hand so tight and heavy it left Clarke spluttering and hungry.

“You’re so pretty when you’re reckless, pet.” Anya leaned down and kissed her gasping mouth softly. “I am going to enjoy taking you like this so, so, so much,” she added, her fingers fumbling between Clarke’s thighs as the head of the dildo was pressed against her warmed up ass.

Clarke became boneless and slack against the sheets, her eyes wide and her lips trembling with arousal. The hand around her throat became gentle and tender, and Anya went so far as to stroke her thumb against the roof of her jaw.

“What’s the matter, little bird?” Anya pushed the head in slowly and removed her hand, allowing her sturdy,careful hips to do the work instead. “Cat got your tongue?”

“The cat’s got something alright,” Clarke whispered, breathless. 

It wasn’t that the thought of anal sex scared her—not when she thought about Anya or Lexa being the ones to do it to her, at least—but there had been a bad experience once or twice. A pump from an over eager ex-boyfriend that had slipped out and pressed against her asshole accidentally and left her reeling and gasping into the pillows with sharp pain. For some reason Clarke had always likened it to that in her mind when she thought about what it would feel like to explore heavier assplay. Oh how wrong she was, she realised gladly. She felt her brooding lover grab onto her hips and slowly push inside a little deeper, leaving her mouth open and her thighs shaking in delight.

“Why isn’t this as overwhelming as I thought it be? Why isn’t it terrible?” Clarke muttered to herself, flabbergasted.

“Because I’m on the receiving end of this more than you care to imagine and I know what I’m doing. I’m going very, very slowly and gently,” Anya explained with a slow thrust that drew the air out of Clarke’s lungs. She smiled, “You like that, princess?”

“So much, Daddy,” Clarke whispered and leaned forward, tucking her forehead into the cool sweaty collarbone where Anya’s silk gown slipped down past the arm. It smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and musky expensive cologne. Clarke buried a little deeper and inhaled until she tasted it on the back of her tongue.

The sturdy hips between her thighs pushed with a slow relentless thrust into her ass that made Clarke’s eyes snap wide open. It was a delicious sort of helplessness. A reckoning her body was made for. A hateful sort of beautiful awakening. Above all things, she wanted to wrap her delicate forearms around her godlet’s neck and whisper the kind of things that would make a mad woman out of her… but she was a pawn in Anya’s game, Clarke knew that. It left her delighted with the possibilities of where it might go next. It was a strange feeling trusting someone like that, let alone two people, two cruel and soft women who knew _exactly_ what to do with her body. Clarke couldn’t help but hope in her most private of thoughts that Lexa would come home from work early and catch them in the act, that she would pretend to be furious and lend her expertise to these delicious transgressions…

“I could make a meal out of biting those pretty trembling lips, you’re such a bad little bitch,” Anya whispered with a gravelly, breathless voice and interrupted her thoughts.

“You mean like this?” Clarke dove forward as far as she could reach and gobbled Anya’s bottom lip. 

She felt Anya smile, felt her laugh as teeth nibbled blood to the surface of her lips. The kiss was deepened slowly, Anya lowered herself on top of Clarke until they were belly to belly, nose to nose, breathing each other’s exhaled breaths, kissing so hard and slow that Clarke came to the realisation that she could cum from this alone.

Anya pushed herself back up without warning and took the chain between Clarke’s breasts with her, she tugged on her nipples so hard it made Clarke gasp and lose her breath.

“You sure you want to make a war out of trying to best each other? Because you won’t win, pretty girl,” Anya discouraged, crooned, made sympathetic noises as her warm fingers traced delicately over the sharp stinging sensation in Clarke’s tortured pink nipples. Clarke choked on her whimpers and felt the pain swell within her breasts then dwindle and grow warm beneath careful fingers. It wasn’t an unwelcome sensation but it left her quiet and consumed regardless. Anya continued with a pleased voice, “See? That’s all you need to make you behave, a little reminder of who’s boss.”

“You’re the boss,” Clarke didn’t miss a beat, her voice staccato and breathless.

She watched Anya’s eyes narrow and grow hungry for more like a lion toying with its prey. Clarke briefly closed her eyes as her breasts were kneaded and rubbed. The next thing she knew she was crying out, losing her breath, fighting against her own body as the steel teeth were carefully removed from her tits. Again, it wasn’t an unwelcome pain. In her most violent of desires she wanted more, needed more, craved to be owned in the most visceral sense by her human thundercloud.

“Aw baby, you need Daddy to make you feel better? I think you deserve it, I can see you’re trying so hard not to purposely infuriate me and I know that must be so, so difficult for you...” Anya crooned again with that soft voice that made Clarke feel like the most pathetic creature in the world. The dildo in her ass gently pushed and pulled back, and the body on top of her shifted delicately until Anya was kissing a trail from the bottom of her earlobe down the side of her neck, chuckling past her collarbone.

“Fuck Daddy,” Clarke whimpered and lost her breath as a warm hot mouth trapped her nipple. “You’re the boss of me, just you, only you.” She closed her eyes and groaned.

“Only me?” Anya’s mouth came undone with a wry smile.

Clarke looked down and bit her bottom lip. “Well, maybe not just you,” she whispered.

Clarke watched a palm reach up and pat her cheek softly. “Good save,” Anya said with a nod of her head.

“Will you please keep fucking my ass like you were before?” Clarke begged and hated herself for begging. She knew the slowing of Anya’s kneeling hips between her thighs was purposeful, she suspected that begging and pleading was what her conqueror wanted the most and so she put up no fight.

“You better stick a pretty please on the end of that sentence before I stick a bruise on the end of you, you better make me believe how much you want it.” Anya warned with a glare of her dark brown eyes.

“Pretty please? I want you deep inside of me… I want your hand around my throat and your teeth resting on my mouth and your fingers rubbing my clit— _Oh my._ ” Clarke cried out as a set of strong hips came back to life and filled her to the brim of her soul.

“Such a filthy fucking girl!” Anya hissed and dug her palm roughly into Clarke’s clit. “God I adore you,” she spat almost furiously and kissed her hard.

Anya obliged her every whim and wrapped a warm palm around her windpipe until every breath became an act that was wilfully approved and ordained. If she could speak, Clarke would liken it to the opposite of an out of body experience. So far within her own soul was she that every nerve ending could be felt coming alive beneath Daddy’s tender wrath. Anya’s palm slipped back up over her mound until two fingertips could easily work over her slit and hood. All Clarke could do was moan louder and louder, her eyes glazing over into a languid stare.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Anya whispered and utterly meant it, grinding into a deep delicious spot that made Clarke’s noises desperate and guttural.

“Tell me I’m your good girl, please, pretty please?” Clarke choked out the words and became the most submissive, unashamed parts of herself.

Clarke gasped as her throat was released, lurching forward as far as she could against the rope with hungry lungs. Anya shoved her down, absolutely buried her back into the pillows with hot wet kisses that made Clarke’s thighs begin to shake.

“You’re such a good girl,” Anya praised into her tongue.

It was praised into her mouth, then her cheek, then her ear, her throat, her eyelashes, again and again, like a broken record that Clarke would never grow tired of hearing skip into her skin. The thrusts into her ass remained deep and slow like pulses from Anya’s hips. The fingers on her clit grew quicker and harder, slick from her own excitement. She couldn’t hold on much longer.

“Please can I cum? Please I’ll do anything, I can’t hold it off much longer, I need to cum so bad Daddy,” Clarke wailed her voice into a hoarse whisper.

“Not yet, you can wait just a little longer Clarke,” A voice by the door interrupted them.

Clarke locked eyes with the brooding creature by the door as she unbuttoned the top button of her stiff white collar and set down her black leather suitcase. Out of the corner of her eye, Clarke watched Anya snap her head around submissively. Suddenly they were both made pawns in someone else’s game, just as quick as that. Instead of snapping her out of her state of frantic arousal, Clarke found herself immersed even deeper, even closer to the brink of climax.

“You’re back early?” Anya sounded unphased.

Lexa stepped towards the bed as she undid each button of her crisp white shirt methodically. Her eyes were precarious, dangerous things. They glanced between the pair of them and lingered over Anya’s sweaty, hot, tanned skin with utter desire. Clarke empathised.

“It’s just as well I did,” Lexa started and stopped, tutting to herself as she halted at the side of the bed. “You look like a fucking goddess in that silk dressing gown. I can’t believe I nearly missed it.”

“You should see the panties I’m wearing underneath this old thing…” Anya hummed and slipped a palm around Lexa’s cheek, giving her a quick chaste kiss hello.

“Dare I ask?” Lexa knitted her brows and pulled away.

“Remember the ones you ripped and stuffed inside my mouth on your birthday?”

“I could never forget.”

“Well.” Anya traced her fingers up the remained buttons of Lexa’s shirt. “It’s your lucky night, cowboy.”

Lexa smiled and said nothing. It was the most arousing, intimidating thing Clarke thought she might have ever seen. She inhaled and closed her eyes, stuck on the stilled dildo in her ass and the idling, slow moving fingers on her aching clit. Clarke opened her eyes and found the human nuclear bomb staring at her.

“Hello, Clarke.” Lexa smiled kindly. “Did I interrupt something…urgent?” She looked her up and down.

“No Lexa,” Clarke whispered the lie politely, utterly twisting inside with the need to cum.

“Good, you won’t mind if I take my time then?” Lexa leaned down and kissed her gently on the cheek then lingered near her ear, “If you want me to join in, that is? I don’t mind you two playing without me,” she whispered.

Clarke paused and watched the way Lexa hid the lie well, but not well enough. It made her want to whimper. It made her want to close her eyes and rock herself desperately into Anya’s idling fingers until she came undone. There was something intoxicating about the knowledge that she was enough to make a jealous woman out of the otherworldly, ethereal, terrifyingly-serene half of her dominant double-act.

“Please don’t take your time,” Clarke snapped with a shake of her sweaty forehead, weak and broken in the best ways possible. “I want both of you, it has to be both of you or it’s not as good and I am so close I could cry…” she felt her hoarse voice tremble desperately.

Lexa looked at Anya with narrowed eyes and a pleased purse of her lips. “Someone was feeling mean tonight… what did you do to my favourite little slut? Did you break her?” She glanced back down at Clarke.

“Your favourite little slut?” Anya raised an offended brow.

“Well. You’re my favourite _big_ slut.”

“I’ll take it,” Anya purred and seemed to suddenly remember Clarke. She glanced down and bit her bottom lip, pushing forward with an achingly slow thrust that awoke her ass. “I guess I have been mean to you haven’t I, baby?” She hummed against her lips. “Does it feel good when I fuck you like this?”

“I love it,” Clarke mumbled frantically into the kiss and lost herself once more as Anya fucked her.

“Good girl, you just be my good little bitch and let it feel good…” Anya grunted.

Lexa moved around the bed and undid the restraints at each corner post until Clarke’s limbs were sore and free. She wasn’t sure what to do with them now they were cut loose, for a moment she tried to keep them still on the bed sheets until she was instructed to perform otherwise. Anya hooked a solid arm underneath each of Clarke knees and pushed them backwards, tilting her hips in the process until the cock in her ass started to hit a deep spot that made her moans loud enough to wake the entire street. Clarke’s freed hands suddenly found their purpose. She reached around and clung to Anya’s back for dear life, clawing it through the material.

“If you mark her, I’m going to have to punish you. I am a very possessive woman,” Lexa warned from where she folded her shirt and trousers over the back of the chair, stood in nothing but her black lingerie.

“Are you talking to me or her?” Anya asked, out of breath and wincing into the punishment of her spine.

“Yes.”

“Understood.”

“Glad we’re clear.”

“Crystal,” Anya barely whispered as she doved down and sucked on Clarke’s neck hard, fingering and fucking her in a perfectly, messy, imperfect, hungry rhythm. “Be my good girl, tell Lexa exactly what you fantasise about doing to me while I make you cum,” she growled into the skin of Clarke’s throat.

Clarke felt thighs thrash and tremble against her own will, felt her arms constrict around the back of Anya’s neck, felt herself become utterly terrified that her orgasm would be snatched away once again. It embarrassed her how wet her pussy was on Anya’s fingers, how much wetter and hotter it was growing with the thoughts of what she wanted to do to the pair of them. The godlet on top of her hushed her into a state of calm with soft kisses against the side of her neck for good measure.

“Tell me.” Lexa clambered up onto the bed behind Anya. She pressed up against Anya’s back and hung her chin over the ridge of her shoulder, moving with each thrust perfectly. “I want you to tell me what you think about doing to her when you go home and touch yourself in private, Clarke,” she ordered with a dulcet tone.

Clarke felt herself begin to come undone. Anya bit her neck and rubbed against her aching clit harder. Lexa reached around and locked her fingers with Clarke’s until they were knotted together and pinned into the navy-blue silk sheets.

“I think about eating her out until she’s sore and sh...shaking while you fuck me from behind.” Clarke licked her lips and gasped, clenching her eyes closed. “I think about how her clit would twitch on my tongue because… because she’s so over sensitive, and I’m so over sensitive too, but you don’t let either of us stop.”

Anya moaned into Clarke’s throat and fucked her harder. Lexa squeezed her hands and groaned. Clarke felt her toes begin to curl.

“Sometimes I think about putting my hands over her mouth to muffle her noises while I fuck her with your strap on and wear one of your dress shirts while you watch… not because I want to take what’s yours… but just because I want to make her feel good the way you do…” Clarke knitted her brows together and whimpered.

Anya frantically rubbed her soaked clit and fucked her deeper. Lexa hissed and cursed and closed her eyes. Clarke felt her cunt grow hot and tight.

“I’m cumming!” Clarke snapped and arched off the bed.

It struck like thunder, like a bang that was big enough to shake the dust off her bones. Clarke sobbed and wailed and thrashed against the pair of them as her body experienced something entirely new. The thrusting in her ass was almost painful but oh-so delicious, it left her so full and stretched in a way that kicked her into the deepest depths of her submissive headspace. It made her vulnerable, made it easier to surrender to the new sensations happening to her body. The orgasm was twice as hard because of that.

“Isn’t she the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen?” Anya whispered and grabbed Clarke’s shuddering chin with her fingers.

Lexa smiled again. “So pretty it hurts,” she said, unwinding her fingers from Clarke’s grip.

Clarke tried and failed to catch her breath. The pair of them remained between her thighs like shadow-soaked sentinels. She glanced between them, drunk with arousal and unsure on what to do about it. Their hands smoothed over her skin softly and brought her back down from the stars, and that was a start. Clarke closed her eyes and let herself be their plaything.

“Can we keep her?” Anya purred playfully.

“Are you going to remember to feed her?” Lexa replied.

“You’ll recall keeping women satiated is one of my many, many talents.”

“Infuriating me with your inability to answer the phone is on the list too.”

“Oh, you called?” Anya didn’t seem too concerned.

“Octavia was downstairs looking for you. She didn’t look happy, something about dinner?”

Clarke suddenly opened her eyes and felt jealousy swarm up in her gut. Anya was furrowing her brow and cursing beneath her breath, seemingly remembering a missed dinner date. Lexa was smirking darkly at the state of her. In Clarke’s mind, she still wasn’t sure where or how she fit into their world… but the thought of either of them entertaining another woman outside of the menage a trois that had developed in recent times left Clarke infuriated and simultaneously aware she had no right to be.

“Did Octavia seem angrier than usual?” Anya pouted and leaned against Lexa’s chest with a sigh.

“Oh you know Octavia, always hot, always angry,” Lexa replied, her hand slipping inside the dark silk gown and cupping a small pert breast tenderly. She inhaled and sighed happily. “She did say if you thought she was going to give you the lease on that nightclub you could go and fuck yourself. I did ask if I could help you but I don’t think she heard that part as she was storming out of the doors...”

Clarke felt relief wash over her, for now at least. The pair of them had mentioned Octavia before in passing, not that she ever cared much to listen. She had assumed that perhaps she was an ex-girlfriend or maybe even a current girlfriend. It would seem on the contrary that she was a business associate of some sort, not that Clarke understood much about what their business endeavours actually were beyond the bar downstairs and the coffee shop she so often frequented.

Lexa opened Anya’s silk gown without warning and craned forward over her back, her palms cradling each small tanned breast. Clarke gulped and felt her new state of relief be replaced with something else. She watched the way Anya bit her plump bottom lip, the way her cat-like eyes rolled in the back of her head, the way her belly pushed out with the efforts of each hot breath. Clarke pushed up on her elbows and couldn’t tear her eyes away for a single moment.

“Oh you are a bad, bad girl, Lexa Woods.” Anya moaned and furrowed her brows.

“There’s only one girl who gets to use my first name in this room and it isn’t you, princess.” Lexa squeezed and palmed her tits hard. “I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me furious the thought of you two having fun without me…” She glanced at Clarke quite seriously.

“Come on! Just look at her!” Anya complained and gestured her hand in Clarke’s direction. “How could I say no when she was looking at me like that?”

“Well, well.” Lexa tutted and lingered over Clarke with those dangerous eyes, her fingers working Anya’s nipples stiff while she pondered something. “You are so beautiful and possessive, Clarke.”

“I don’t think I know what you mean, Lexa,” Clarke stuttered and blushed, unable to stop watching Anya’s body respond to each touch.

“I think you do.” Lexa smiled and rubbed Anya’s nipples hard. “You like it best when you can have one of us all to yourself, and I don’t think it’s because the idea of the three of us playing together isn’t arousing for you. I don’t think that at all. I think you feel safest when you can dissect each of one us bit by bit, figure out how we react, what it is we really want. It’s deliciously subversive.”

Clarke looked the pair of them up and down, “You just said a lot of things and I didn’t really catch much of it because you’re playing with her tits and can I just mindlessly agree, please? I don’t want any of this to stop.” She made them both laugh in that typically restrained way.

“Maybe I’ve got you pegged all wrong, Clarke,” Lexa whispered once the laughter subsided. “Maybe you’re just impatient…”

“I’m starting to empathise,” Anya gritted her teeth and moaned as Lexa’s hand slipped up her throat and grabbed the delicate underside of her jaw.

Lexa’s eyes narrowed down to the quick-mouthed woman leaned against her chest. She paused and looked back at Clarke. “I’m going to make a meal out of the pair of you. Anya, take off that strap on and sit on Clarke’s face. I want her to clean up every drop of the mess she made between your pretty legs.”

The wind left Clarke’s lungs in the best way possible. Lexa released Anya and pushed her forward hard, her eyes burning with that particular look that meant she was in the mood to be mean. It excited Clarke. It terrified her. It left her out of her mind with the need for more. The next thing she knew Anya was clambering up her hips, up her belly, shoving her down into the pillows with a worked-up grin and the faint smell of cologne lingering on her warm skin.

Anya grabbed her chin hard and stared at her for a moment. “You better lick me like you mean it,” she warned and narrowed her eyes, shifting her thighs up around Clarke’s ears.

…

The room simpered into a warm silence. The bed became a tangled mess of limbs and heaving chests. The candles lined along the window and drawers turned their heads in shame and dwindled into darkness hours ago. Clarke was the first to move, wincing into her stinging ass cheeks as she crawled off the blankets with a chuckle.

“Where you sneaking off too?” Lexa appeared from the pillows, her eyes soft, languid and needy. It made Clarke’s heart funny.

Clarke tucked her blonde hair behind her ears and pushed out a sigh. “I’m taking the couch, I need to sneak out early in the morning and I can’t have either of you keeping me awake much longer,” she lied with a soft smile.

“Sure there’s nothing else I can do for you?” Lexa frowned.

“I’m fine I just need to sleep.”

“I would offer you my bed and shack up in here but this one doesn’t care for sleepovers, with me at least,” Lexa explained and pressed a lazy kiss to Anya’s temple, earning a tired grunt in acknowledgement.

“No, no.” Clarke waved it off. “The couch is fine, you two get some rest.” She got up and grabbed Anya’s silk dressing gown, slipping it on quickly as she made a move for the door. She stopped and turned back to look at them. “Or, you know, don’t rest at all?” she whispered with a bite of her lip.

Anya’s hand appeared from underneath her curled up figure and pushed Lexa away from her body so hard she nearly fell off the edge of the bed. “I’m done for tonight, two of you are enough to kill a woman. I totally get why this one sneaks around looking for quickies,” she teased and threw her head back down.

Clarke closed the door and left them to it. The hallway was dark and cool, it made a nice change from the sweltering heat of the bedroom she had been willing prisoner to since four this afternoon. She padded to the sofa and plumped the pillows, trying to figure out the most painless way to ease herself down without awakening the hurt painted across her ass. It was her own fault really, and maybe Anya’s too. When Lexa reached for her strewn belt left across the back of the chair they both begged for it. Now, the inevitability of two sleeping bodies jostling in bed with her and accidentally awakening her aching body wasn’t a pleasing thought in the slightest, and so she relegated herself to the sofa with no fuss at all.

Clarke tried to get comfortable. She listened to the sound of Lexa padding down the hallway to the bathroom. The door closed, the water ran, the faint sound of teeth being brushed and rinsed hung around for a while. After a few minutes Lexa appeared again and wished her a goodnight, Clarke didn’t have the energy for much more than a murmur in response.

The apartment became utterly silent and, still, Clarke couldn’t get comfortable. It was as if something was out of place. As if there was an invisible checklist of things that needed to be done before she could go to sleep, and something was missing. She mulled it over in her head and couldn’t come to any idea of what it was making her feel so… antsy and unsettled.

A door clicked open once again and Clarke clenched her eyes closed, determined to look asleep and unsure why she even cared so much in the first place. She listened to footsteps draw closer, a body softly slumping down on the footstool opposite her with a deep, troubled sigh. In her deepest hopes, she wished for it to be Lexa, she wished for a kiss on the nose and soft lovely things. The thoughts embarrassed her. Lexa was enigmatic, sure, but she was also cut and dry and Clarke liked that about her the most. It made her easy to understand. She clenched her eyes tighter and waited for the invader to disappear.

“You mentioned when I picked you up earlier that you have nothing planned for tomorrow. Why did you lie?” Anya murmured through the silence.

Clarke cracked open her eyes and felt her lips curl into an awkward frown. She had been discovered, she realised too late.

“I mean it’s none of my fucking business,” Anya said, slapping her knee and looking around the dark room. “It’s just I don’t like going to sleep with problems on my mind and the thought of you not being alright is a big problem for me.”

Clarke hesitated and chewed the inside of her lip, “I’m fine,” she said.

“You’re not fine.” The reply was instantaneous and full of thinly-veiled concern. “I think you’re stuck in that awkward layer of subspace where you want someone to be soft and gentle with you but don’t know how to ask for it because you’re scared they might say no, and that would hurt,” Anya whispered.

Clarke sighed in frustration and rolled her eyes. “You’re making a lot of assumptions and maybe you are right but the truth is I don’t know. I just feel…” she became lost for words.

“Vulnerable? Exhausted? Hypersensitive?” Anya suggested.

“Mmhm,” Clarke murmured and dipped her chin behind her forearm.

“Come on, little bird. You’ve got a mean case of subdrop, nothing a little aloe gel on your ass and a good talk can’t fix.” Anya stood up and stretched her arms out with a deep exhale. “Let's get back in bed and figure it out.”

Clarke was reluctant at first, mumbling under her breath as she was led through the darkness back to bed by a warm hand clutching her own. The minute her body crashed back into the mattress she warmed to the idea of tender hands being kind to her body, and true to her word, Anya did just that. The aloe gel was carefully warmed up between two rubbing palms and then smoothed over each sore spot carefully while she nibbled the pillow. Once in a while, Anya’s hands ventured into the muscles around the back of each thigh and worked out the tension with digging thumbs. It was enough too earn a pleased, relaxed sigh from Clarke’s lips.

“Do you want me to do you?” She offered over her shoulder when Anya was finished.

“No, Lexa took care of me.” Anya settled down beside her and tapped her chest, the unspoken sign for Clarke to come and nest between her collarbones. “Do you want me to go and get you something sweet to eat before you settle? It will help—”

“Wait, Lexa took care of you?” Clarke blinked and went over what was said. It befuddled her, maybe even infuriated her a little.

“Just for a few minutes but there wasn’t much to take care of, I’m a very durable woman. Now, are you going to come here and let me hold you?” Anya smirked and rubbed her temple.

“Why did she not—” Clarke stopped suddenly and realised her cheeks were wet and her voice was wobbly. She tried to hide her embarrassment with a smile and a shake of the head, but Anya was already crooning, already fussing, already pulling at her wrists and taking her into the warmth of her chest with long hushing noises that embarrassed Clarke deeply.

Clarke dipped her nose across Anya’s chest and nuzzled her cheek against the rhythm of her heartbeat. The creature above her stayed quiet for a moment, simply cuddling her and allowing for a little contemplative silence.

“I remember what it was like being new at all of this, wanting someone to understand you so perfectly that you don’t have to tell them once let alone twice… but that’s not how it works, little bird. Lexa asked you if you needed anything. You could have told either one of us you weren’t feeling good.”

“I just didn’t want to be too much…”

“I know you didn’t, I know, but if you’re getting yourself caught in knots trying to figure out how to be special and perfect for the both of us you’ve got it all wrong. Lexa will hang the moon and stars if you ask her to, but you **have** to ask,” Anya reassured.

“What about you?” Clarke sniffed and cleared her throat.

Anya grazed her knuckles down the ridge of Clarke’s spine and grew quiet for a second. “You’ve got me soft on you. It helps that I’m a switch so I understand how things feel a little more than the human doberman sleeping down the hall does. I’ll give you whatever aftercare you need,” she said.

“I’m sorry I cried, I don’t know why I did that.”

“Yes you do, you got upset because you felt like a disposable toy and it made you feel sad the thought that she didn’t bother to fuss over you. That’s a normal way to respond to those feelings, especially when you’re dropping. If you ever feel like that again just remember you only ever have to say the word and we’ll fix it, okay?”

“Okay,” Clarke said, centering herself with a deep breath.

“Spend some time with Lexa tomorrow while I try and fix this deal that’s fell through with Octavia. No games. No pretense. No bullshit. Just hang out and try not to play cat and mouse too much, I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

 

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	4. Chapter 4

_**AN:** _ _Clarke and Lexa finally have some clarification and alone time, because you deserve soft things xo_

Lexa sat on the sofa in navy sweatpants and a white t-shirt, her lion mane tossed up into a high ponytail that still managed to reach down below her shoulder blades. She was crossed legged, a bowl of cereal nestled in her lap while she fiddled with the remote. She looked sleepy, beautiful, all the more beautiful because she wasn’t trying to be beautiful, Clarke thought to herself with a small smile.

It was far too early in the morning for talks about what they had done together the night before but Anya had woken her up in the process of huffing and grumbling around the bedroom. Anya had clambered back on the bed and kissed Clarke on the cheek as soon as she realised the sleeper had arisen, ‘I won’t be back until two. You should try and have something that resembles a productive morning,’ she reminded Clarke of the Lexa-situation. Then, she kissed her one last time and left.

Clarke wasn’t sure that watching Lexa from the door frame like a voyeur constituted as productive but it wasn’t the worst way to start the morning. A girl could definitely get used to the view.

“Are you going to stand there all day?” Two green eyes turned and found her, a teasing smile pushing up Lexa’s cheeks.

“Sorry,” Clarke said with a scratch of her head, her lips quirking into a funny smile. “You just looked… homely. I didn’t know you knew how to dress down?” She walked over.

“Promise you won’t tell the dapper lesbian society? They’ll be cross.” Lexa gobbled a spoonful of cereal and wiggled her brows in amusement.

Clarke slumped on the sofa next to her, chuckling at the thought. She wrapped the soft flannel shirt around her body to preserve a slither of modesty and tucked her feet underneath herself. The shirt was found on the bedroom floor once she managed to drag herself out of bed, she wasn’t sure if it belonged to Anya or Lexa. Truth was she didn’t care either way. It was big and comfy. Soft and warm. The faint smell of cologne lingered on the collars. She burrowed deeper into the lip of the shirt and sighed in contentment.

“Here.” Lexa brought a spoonful of cereal to her mouth. “Eat. Mange. Comer. I would make you something but I’m guessing you need to rush out and start your day?”

“Actually, about that.” Clarke took the spoon and chewed on the cereal, pondering how exactly to put it. “No plans today beyond showering, and even that’s a maybe. I’m all yours, if you want me?”

“When don’t I?” Lexa grinned and stole the spoon, gobbling a mouthful of cereal with a slackened smirk. Her eyebrows quirked into a funny, thoughtful expression. “I thought you had to rush out early?” She remembered.

“I lied.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “Any reason why?”

Here it was, Clarke nibbled her bottom lip and tried to think of a tactful way to discuss it… one that wouldn’t offend, one that wouldn’t come across too sharp.

“I feel like it’s a bad thing to ask more of you than what you’re willing to give.” The fuck up was already mid-flight before she caught the severity of her tone. “I’m not saying I don’t have fun, because, well, it’s always… more than fun.” Clarke soothed the scolding slightly with a soft tone and a small smile. “It’s just you’re so cool and otherworldly, to me, at least. And I don’t know how to ask you to be soft and gentle and give me more of your time without you thinking… the wrong thing. It’s not that you’ve said that. It’s not that you’ve said anything to make me feel that way. It’s just that you’re, well, you? Cool. A little elusive. I don’t know… I feel like I have to leave early and not ask for the things I want otherwise you’ll think I’m clingy.”

Lexa’s expression became solemn and deep, heavy, thoughtful, as if she were contemplating the right answer to an impossible question. Her jaw worked itself, her eyes darted slightly, and even though there was no reasonable logic to it, Clarke couldn’t shake the feeling that the interim of this pause was being spent devising a break-up plan. As if, the otherworldly domme who had crashed into her life like a cartoon piano hurtling off a building was thinking of a way to soften the blow that there were some things she just couldn’t do, and being soft and gentle was one of them.

Clarke nibbled her lips. “Did I break you?”

“Nowhere even close,” Lexa promised, her expression softening. “Is sorry a good place to start or do you want me to begin with how I can do better moving forward? I’d like to do that, be better, I mean.”

“What?” Clarke blinked.

“What do you mean what?”

“You’re not going to tease me?”

“No? What? Why would I tease you? No. No way.” Lexa shook her head and touched Clarke’s wrist gently. “There was an error in communication and a lot of the blame for that lies with me, and I’m alright with that, I’m a big girl and I can take it. I just want the opportunity to make it right if that’s alright by you? I hate the thought of you leaving here not feeling better than when you arrived. That’s not why I’m into the lifestyle.”

“How are you the most complicated and simplest person I know, simultaneously?” Clarke almost had whiplash.

“I’m neither of those things.” Lexa gravely shook her head. “I know it’s easy to fall into the trap but please dont romanticise my shortcomings. If I’ve behaved in a way that makes you feel like you can’t ask for the things you need then that’s something we need to fix, pronto.” Lexa stood up from the sofa and walked over to her laptop bag hanging off the corner of the armchair.

“What are you doing?”

“The thing I love most in this world, Clarke Griffin—” Lexa huffed and grabbed her laptop out of the carry-case, turning back around with a slackened grin. “Spreadsheets. Flow charts. Process maps. The good stuff.”

“Dare I ask…?”

“It’s not romantic, I know, but process optimisation is kind of my strong suite. I want to come up with plans, with excel sheets, with hard concrete things so we can navigate towards where it is we want to be a little easier. I promise it will be fun?” Lexa bit her bottom lip and her eyes lit up like a kid in a candy store.

“You don’t have to do all of that…” Clarke shuffled uncomfortably and felt a bit guilty.

“But I want to! Eating ass and making Excel tables are interchangeably my favourite thing in the world.” Lexa pouted slightly.

“You boggle the mind.”

“Thank you, I think?”

“Sorry,” Clarke blushed. “It’s just you really don’t have to make spreadsheets and process maps for me, I just need you to hug me after you’ve spanked me without me having to ask you for it.”

“That’s a great place to start.” Lexa plonked herself down beside Clarke and opened her laptop screen. “What pet names do you like? Princess? Baby girl? Gumdrop?” The last one was said with a quirk of the brow that made Clarke giggle.

Clarke screwed her expression slightly and leaned against Lexa’s shoulder, peering at the laptop screen with decided interest as a blank spreadsheet was opened. “Definitely not Gumdrop.” She shook her head. “I like Princess, that feels fun.”

“And so it was written into law across the kingdom,” Lexa singsonged and created a table in the spreadsheet. “So, after you’ve been spanked, I should hug you and call you Princess without expecting you to ask.” She nodded and tapped it into her meticulous records. “What about after something heavier, like if I’ve hit you with my belt?”

Clarke shivered slightly at the thought.

“Well, what do submissives tend to like after they’ve been hit with a belt?” She swallowed hard with the thought.

“I could rub your butt with Arnica, feed you something sugary, I could make sure I save that kind of play for when Anya’s not around so you can have my undivided attention…” Lexa slipped her hand around the small of Clarke’s spine and pulled her closer.

“I like playing rough when Anya’s around, I want her to stay.” Clarke thought about it and pressed her nose into the ball of Lexa’s shoulder. “But the Arnica and post-play snack sound like a God send,” she murmured into her warm skin.

“Any particular order?” Lexa lifted an expectant brow.

“Arnica first, snack after,” Clarke said decisively.

The eager one began to type and didn’t stop, she opened another Excel sheet and made a small process map. It began with a bubble containing the words _Belt Striking_ , followed by a neat arrow that pointed to another bubble containing the word _Arnica_ , and before she knew it, Clarke was getting a two-in-one lesson in cross-functional management planning and BDSM communication 101.

“What do we do after the snack? Cuddle for a while?”

“Possibly.”

“Anything else?”

“No, that feels thorough.” Clarke watched her switch back to the previous spreadsheet with the simpler table format. “We’re not going to map our entire sex life in an Excel workbook, are we?” She worried.

“No, we can come back to it the more we figure it out, we’re still in the early days.” Clarke became instantly excited with what the future held if these were still the early days. “I just want to put something down on paper, make an effort, give you whatever you need, maybe get a kiss or two later. It would be nice.” Lexa wiggled her eyebrows and nibbled the inside of her cheek playfully.

Clarke smiled and rolled her eyes at the beautiful idiot, she leaned forward and took Lexa’s cheeks with both palms. The kiss was chaste, was light and half-hearted because of the humour of it. They didn’t kiss in moments like this. Still, three months in, kisses were still heady things reserved for sex and the want for sex. Except apparently that was no longer the case. Clarke pecked her again and again, chuckling, chuckling because Lexa was chuckling too, and ironically sex was the last thing on her mind.

“Well this is nice,” Lexa whispered and pressed against Clarke’s nose. “Unusual, but nice.”

“My domme is making a meticulous spreadsheet so she remembers to give me cookies after she’s fucked me. If I can’t kiss her now, when can I?” Clarke sighed and tucked a curled rope of lion mane behind her ear.

“I wanted to laugh a bit when you said I was cool and otherworldly, it was one of your better lines.”

“Yeah?” Clarke giggled. “You think that’s changed just because I know you’re an Excel wizard?”

“Listen, if my spreadsheet skills don’t turn you on all the more you can just put your clothes on and get out.” Lexa levelled a serious look.

“You don’t mean that.” Clarke playfully shook her head.

Lexa sighed, “You’re right I don’t.”

“So why did it make you laugh? Me thinking you’re too cool for school, I mean?”

“It’s just… I kinda thought you were the elusive, otherworldly one.” Lexa shrugged and closed the laptop screen. “There’s an air about you. A little mystery. I like it. God knows Anya does too…”

Clarke didn’t believe it, and she made sure Lexa knew she didn’t believe it too. The laugh was boisterous, her head nodding to the point of sheer mockery.

“I’m being serious!” Lexa picked up the cereal bowl and stirred it with the spoon, the cornflakes now soggy. “You walk into a BDSM bar, having never been to a BDSM bar mind you, and two hours later we’re having a threesome on a school night. You’re the wildest of wild things, Clarke Griffin, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“It was a Friday,” Clarke whispered the amendment, flattered and blushing nonetheless. “But I’ll take the compliment, thank you.”

“You had to leave early and head in to the office. Ergo, it was a school night.” Lexa emphasised, unwilling to let it go.

“Again, that was a lie.”

“Oh fuck you, I got up early to make you both bacon and eggs!” Lexa shook her head and dropped the spoon in the milk. “Do you have any idea how much it pains me having to throw away perfectly good bacon?”

Clarke smirked. “I’ll put it in my spreadsheet.”

“Ha ha,” Lexa said sarcastically, a small smirk forming. “You’re going to have to make this up to me. I mean it. You don’t get to waste bacon that I cured myself just because you wanted to make a statement...” She pointed her finger at Clarke seriously.

The elusive one became all the more elusive. Clarke blinked and nodded as if she comprehended what was just said, nodded even though she couldn’t begin to comprehend where or how Lexa would cure and smoke bacon in the middle of the city. She stored the thought in the part of her brain that would be revisited when she needed something to masturbate over. Lexa in flannel, maybe even overalls, doing things with knives and her bare hands next to a smokestack was the opposite of an unappealing thought.

“Alright, well how can I make it up to you?” Clarke bit her bottom lip.

“Well we do have a day to ourselves…” The human conundrum lowered her tone slightly, looking around the apartment, looking at the bedroom with a small, wicked smile.

Clarke inhaled and felt herself grow a little excited.

“We do have the day to ourselves, how astute of you to notice.”

“You wanna get up to no-good and cause some trouble with me, wild thing?” Lexa sat up and narrowed her eyes.

Clarke inhaled and felt herself grow aroused with the thought of what sort of trouble they might get into. Hopefully the bruise-causing, teeth clenching, painful, sensual, earth-shattering orgasm inducing variety.

“When don’t I?” Clarke grew brave. “What did you have in mind?”

“Skeeball.” Lexa stood up from the sofa with renewed purpose. “Pepperoni pizza, beer, skeeball, oooh!” She made a face. “And bowling, we’re definitely going bowling too. Do you have soft-soled shoes?” It became apparent she was serious.

“I’m sorry.” Clarke blinked. “I think we were thinking of two very different kinds of no-good trouble here. Are you asking me on a date to Chuck E. Cheese?”

“And bowling afterwards, yes I am.” Lexa clarified with an air of authority. “Go shower and get dressed, I’ll press my good pants.”

 

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